Birdsong
by UnrealisticDreamer
Summary: A semi-songfic oneshot where Max celebrates a birthday and cures a bout of insomnia with a late-night winter flight.


Okay, lemme start by saying that I don't know what Max's birthday is [and when you think about it, she doesn't either, technically], but for the sake of scenery, I made in in winter, no specific date mentioned. Takes place before the book series begins, written in honor of me getting an EEE PC for Christmas! On the COUCH! With the dreaded Desktop configuration all the way across the room! Mwahahaha!

*Ahem*

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, the flock, or anything else. If I did, it wouldn't have turned into one big rant about global warming in the 4th book :]

* * *

I sighed quietly, turning over on my big, soft, and yet somehow still uncomfortable bed. Bright moonlight from the full moon streamed into my closed but uncurtained window. A slight layer of frost on the glass told me that we might see snow soon.

Today, I celebrated my 14th birthday, more or less. Iggy and Gazzy had made an amazing 3-layer chocolate cake, with 'Happy b-day, Max!' written in yellow icing letters on top by Nudge, which had been delicious. In addition to the cake, they had both made me an MP3 player, already loaded with some of my favorite songs, complete with an AM/FM radio that I could program favorite stations into. It even had a clip built in so I could wear it and rock out while flying, as Gazzy had put it.

Angel and Nudge had given me a really cool t-shirt they had made for me, which was plain white but fitted, and they had somehow embroidered a feather design in shiny silver stitching on the front, the feather shown tip-down, angled to the right, and the detail was breathtaking. They must have spent forever on it, and I wrapped them both in a big, mushy hug and told them I loved it, which was the complete truth, one hundred percent. I also told them that they were good enough to become fashion designers someday.

Fang, being the big softie he is, got me a new backpack. It was big, but not bulky, black [big surprise with Fang, right?] had tons of extra compartments, and had "Flying High" Embroidered on it. He said he'd bought it from a sporting goods store, apparently it was geared toward hang-gliders and the like. I teased him a bit by saying dramatically, 'I'll think of you every time I put it on!' and the rest of the flock laughed. I thanked him with a hug, which was met with his usual statue-esque non-responsiveness, and then we all went out and flew for a while.

That was hours ago. It was almost midnight, but I was lying awake plagued by insomnia. I was tired, but had the urge to run a marathon or do something else active for some reason.

Mumbling something incoherent, I threw back the covers and went over to my dresser where my feather shirt was laying obediently beside my MP3 player, clean and folded with the design shimmering dimly in the bright moonlight. Smiling, I pulled it on over my tank top and admired myself in the mirror.

I know what you're thinking- 'Max? Being _girly_?' No, I only have a mirror because I do care about my appearance, even if it's only just a little bit, but I was still awed that Nudge and Angel had made something so beautiful and so cool, so there.

I made an executive decision, and started getting dressed, grabbing my MP3 player in the process. I switched it on, found a good radio station, then threw open by bedroom window and leapt out into the cold winter night.

Gaining altitude, I felt and enjoyed the strong wind currents cradling me, the feeling of the chilly air gliding over my feathers, smoothing them as I worked them, and I smiled. The song I was listening to, an old, familiar favorite, sped up a little, and as I listened to it, I became one with the music.

I banked, turned, glided, and climbed as the music flowed through me. I let myself become sound and rhythm incarnate. As the song progressed, I dove repeatedly below the treeline, darting quickly and nimbly between the trunks, letting the tips of my primaries brush ever-so-gently against a few outstretched branches. At the chorus, I Surged back up into open space and at about 40 feet above the treetops, I worked my wings faster and flew in a huge, wide circle, focusing on speed. As the chorus ended and fused with the second verse, I slowed and changed direction, heading upward. I gained altitude slowly, occasionally spinning or leveling out to angle myself into a tight, sharp circle, then rising again.

When I noticed the air getting thinner, the second verse finally turned into the second chorus, the longest part of the song, and I spread my wings and caught a small current that let me glide for a few seconds, then I began to fall slowly, wings still outstretched.

I let myself drift away from the music, and looked left, then right at my massive 13 foot wingspan. A chill ran down my spine, making me shiver not because of the cold, but because of the ever-familiar feeling that I was something _more,_ something special. A genetic masterpiece.

I shut down those thoughts in fear that I would develop a complex, and shifted my focus back to the music.

What had felt like only a few seconds had actually been a couple of minutes, and now the song was just finishing the last chorus, heading into the bridge, the last part of the song before it was over. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, folded my wings, and let myself fall.

I shut myself off from everything but the music. I ignored the feeling of getting closer and closer to the ground. I ignored the urge to snap my wings open and catch myself. I ignored the urge to even open my eyes.

Only after the last lingering notes of the song faded away did I dare to simultaneously open my eyes and snap open my wings, down stroking hard to just narrowly avoid impaling myself on a tall tree. Pulling down hard, I rose to a safe distance and hovered, pausing to take in the view of the forrest, the mountains, and my home; all covered in a layer of fresh snow.

Smiling, I switched off my MP3 player and flew back toward my open window. Aiming myself carefully, I shot through and into my room, landing on my hands, then rolling forward, holding my wings out a bit, then using momentum to get back on my feet.

I went over to close the window against the cold. Now that my moment was over, I was back to being myself, good ol' Maximum Ride, snarky as ever. I pulled off my windbreaker, tossed it onto my dresser, and then suppressed a scream as I saw Fang standing silently in the open doorway, arms crossed.

"I didn't know you could dance." He said evenly. I half-glared at him, daring him to taunt me, but he just smirked, then turned away, pulling my door closed as he left.

* * *

A/N: I used the songs "Genetic Emancipation", "I Didn't Know I'd Love You So Much", and "Chase The Morning" from the Repo! The Genetic Opera soundtrack for inspiration, which I don't own any part of, either. I just love the way they sound.


End file.
